kethrai's Diaryland Diary

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The Glasswater Blues

One night at a open mic, a short guy going thin on top walked in. He had a guitar with him that looked like ten miles of bad road--it had what looked like a hubcap stuck square in the body of it.

The guy sat down. He didn't need a mike, because that steel-belly street guitar threw that blues tune up one hundred and twenty miles into the sky, and he kept time with the stomp of his boot.

This one is for Scrapper Glasswater. You read it aloud, and let your voice swing on it.

The Glasswater Blues

The blues man thumps his boot
against the floor,
singing that antique tune
and can you feel the blues,
sister, brother?
We're not talking
having a bad day
we're not talking
the sky is kinda gray
we're talking blues
rises from the feet
like a cold river fog
chill you down but it's all right
you knew there was gonna be fog
tonight
and you don't care--
let it wrap its arms
around you, child
it's okay, this once, this wild
dark and dancing
blues tune--

Scratch the fingers on
that old guitar, let it
take you far
down into the water tonight
you won't mind drowning in a
good cause
saved only by soft
cement-shoe shuffle
end of song
sound of applause.

7:33 a.m. - 2002-11-23

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